A page of handwritten notes on lined, dirty refill paper. Headline: Pugranhas
A pencil illustration of a near-spherical creature, a cross between a pug and a fish.
Body text: Pugranhas are odd beasts, half head and almost spherical. Still, surprisingly successful riverine predators for all their physical oddities. I’ve seen packs of them devour a scorpidog right down to the bone, and even slotters are wary about entering a pug-infested river. Despite the fins, they’re still weird dogs in basic anatomy, which is why I call a group of them a pack, rather than a school. They’re air breathers, and you can sometimes spot them by their stubby little snouts sticking out of the water to breathe, though they’re smart enough to make use of vegetation and other cover when it’s available. Only cross rivers when you can see the bottom, and there aren’t any plants in sight for a good distance up and down the river.
Pugranhas give birth to small litters, usually two or three pups at a time, and grow to adulthood quickly. Mating is… comical, like two apples trying to stick each others’ stems in their blossom ends, underwater.
Their strange shape leads me to believe they were created entirely for ornamental use. The front end, at least, is based on a now-extinct breed of dog, similarly useless, bred for companionship. There is clear evidence that the original pugranhas were much smaller, perhaps hand size, and must have been a cute and funny centrepiece to a large aquarium. Wild life seems to have agreed with them; they’re now the size of a
person’s head, on average.
Another pencil illustration of a pugranha, this time facing the viewer with an evil grin.